


small victories

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras don't exactly excel at finding adequate pet names for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	small victories

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [Úspěch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10767735) by [christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood)



> Written for an anon prompt that I got on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).

Grantaire picked at the hem of his shirt. Now or never. “Hey, angel-face,” he called. If he’d waited a second longer, Enjolras would have been out of earshot. He’d promised himself that he’d wait for Enjolras after his last class of the day and _talk to him_ , otherwise he’d probably have to hide in his room for a week and hate himself because he was a huge wuss.

Enjolras stopped in his tracks. Grantaire could see him take a deep breath before he turned around. He counted it a success that Enjolras hadn’t simply kept walking and ignored him.  

“What’s up,” Grantaire said as he sidled up to him.

“Did you just call me angel-face?”

“I thought it was fitting.” Grantaire smirked at him. It was either that or freaking the fuck out. “Since you do have rather angelic features. Michelangelo would weep. Truly.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “Do you have to be so overdramatic?”

“No, I picked that up from Courfeyrac,” Grantaire said.

That, at least, tickled a smile out of Enjolras.

Grantaire buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was run away. He’d given himself five pep talks before he’d even had breakfast this morning and he’d thought that he’d almost convinced himself that he could face Enjolras without running away screaming. It seemed that he’d been wrong.

Still, there was absolutely no reason for him to scream. Okay, there was. But it was a good reason. A _positive_ reason.

“So,” Enjolras said, his tone carefully casual, “where are you headed?”

“Home. Unless you’d like me to be headed somewhere else?”

Enjolras ducked his head, but he didn’t quite manage to hide his smile. “I’ll walk you. If you don’t mind.”

“Sure, let’s go,” Grantaire said. He didn’t care that he sounded unbearably smug. If there had ever been a time to be smug, it was right now.

“I meant to call you yesterday,” Enjolras said.

For a moment, Grantaire thought that he might spontaneously combust. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you. About…” Enjolras waved his hand, nodded at Grantaire, eyes flickering to his lips. Oh, he had so many reasons to be smug. “You know.”

“I know,” Grantaire confirmed.

Enjolras’ cheeks went pink. “Is there any chance that we could,” his shoulder bumped against Grantaire’s, “do _that_ again?”

Instead of following his first impulse and making incoherent noises, Grantaire scraped together the last of his courage and said, “Yes, if I remember correctly, I think we did something like this?” He reached out, his fingers curling around Enjolras’.

“Yes, I think you’re right about that,” Enjolras said, gently squeezing his hand. “Grantaire…” Another deep breath, like he was steeling himself. It wasn’t often that Enjolras looked this nervous.

“Yes, angel-face?” Grantaire said, laughing when Enjolras huffed.

“Are you trying to make this harder for me?” Enjolras pulled him into one of the small alleyways just off campus. A shortcut to Grantaire’s place that he’d shown Enjolras a couple of months ago when campus security had been on his heels for breaking into the administration building to leave a message for the dean.

“Sorry.” Grantaire smiled broadly. “You were saying?”

“I just wanted to tell you,” Enjolras said, “that I’d very much like to kiss you again. Unless you keep calling me angel-face.”

“I’ll never call you angel-face again, I promise,” Grantaire said. “Cross my heart and–”

“Well, if you promise…” Enjolras interrupted, slowing his steps and pulling Grantaire to a halt as well.

“I promise _so much_ ,” Grantaire whispered, breath hitching when Enjolras hummed and kissed him. _Again_. This was so much better than the quick, chaste kiss they’d shared two days ago.

And if all it took was that he never gave Enjolras a nickname again, well, Grantaire could definitely live with that.

* * *

“Rise and shine,” Grantaire whispered, crawling back into bed, hovering right over Enjolras’ head. “Are we still going out for breakfast?”

Enjolras grumbled something in reply that could have been either _give me a minute_ or _forget it_.

Grantaire kissed his temple, mainly because that was the only part he could reach without peeling Enjolras out of his duvet cocoon. “I could always make pancakes. That way you wouldn’t have to get out of bed.”

Appearing from under the covers, Enjolras grinned up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Grantaire said and captured Enjolras’ lips before they could disappear again. Enjolras had been working on a really important paper for weeks and Grantaire hadn’t seen him sleep in the past week – and he’d spent a lot of time with Enjolras, just to make sure that he ate a warm meal every now and then. Enjolras deserved breakfast in bed.

“But I was going to _buy_ you pancakes,” Enjolras mumbled against Grantaire’s lips, “to say thank you,” his fingers wandered into Grantaire’s hair to keep him close, “for making sure I won’t starve.”

“You can do that tomorrow.” Grantaire bumped his nose against Enjolras’. “And I can make sure that you won’t starve for one more day.”

“You don’t mind?”

“It’s quite all right, sunshine,” Grantaire said. He nearly burst out laughing the second he said it.

“Seriously?” Enjolras asked, looking mildly disgruntled now.

Grantaire let himself fall right on top of Enjolras, laughing into his hair. “I’m sorry. But it’s fitting. Even more fitting than angel-face.”

“I distinctly remember you promising that you’d never call me that again.”

“And I didn’t,” Grantaire said and kissed his cheek, “I called you sunshine.” He started humming _You Are My Sunshine_ , trailing off into a yelp when Enjolras freed a hand from the duvet just to poke him in the ribs. So he switched to _Let the Sunshine In_ , which earned him an exasperated groan.

“I could go with something more, I don’t know,” Grantaire nuzzled against Enjolras’ neck, “pedestrian. Like…” He wrinkled his nose. “ _Darling_?”

Another disgruntled noise.

“Sweetheart?”

“Do I really look like a sweetheart to you?” Enjolras asked, amusement creeping into his voice.

Grantaire squinted at him. “Cuddlemuffin?”

“Please stop, you’re making my ears bleed.”

“Cuddlemuffin doesn’t really suit your purposes, I suppose?” Grantaire asked. “I mean, you do have a reputation to uphold. The ice-cold leader of a student group, ruthlessly pushing his agenda, standing on tables to yell at people in the cafeteria. And a cuddlemuffin. I see how that could be problematic.”

The duvet was shaking and it took Grantaire a moment to realize that Enjolras was laughing. “Stop it.”

“Okay, cuddlemuffin goes on the blacklist, together with angel-face.”

“Good,” Enjolras said and prodded at Grantaire’s arm. “Come on, get back under the covers.”

“What about breakfast?”

“Breakfast can wait,” Enjolras said, “ _honeybun_.”

“I hate you,” Grantaire whispered, but dutifully crawled under the covers.

“No, you don’t.”

Grantaire gave him a kiss. “No, I don’t.” His icy fingers slipped under Enjolras’ shirt and Enjolras squirmed away. “Hey, don’t go anywhere.”

With a low grumble, Enjolras draped himself over him. “I’m not.”

* * *

“See, this is…” Grantaire took a step back to lean against the door and Enjolras quickly followed, lips on Grantaire’s. “This is why I was so eager to get home.”

“I wasn’t complaining.” Enjolras nipped at his jaw, fingers busying themselves with the buttons of Grantaire’s shirt.

“Yes, you were,” Grantaire muttered, tugging at Enjolras’ shirt.

“Because you called me _pumpkin_ ,” Enjolras said sternly.

“That sort of slipped out.” Grantaire slowly kissed down Enjolras’ neck to apologize.

“In front of our _friends_.”

“It was a joke.”

“Let me rephrase,” Enjolras said, pushing against him. “In front of _Courfeyrac_. I’ll be Pumpkin until the end of my days.”

“Well, you are a cute little pumpkin.”

“There goes your chance of having sex tonight,” Enjolras said and took a step back. He was grinning.

“Don’t do this to me, cupcake,” Grantaire whined and followed him down the hall, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Enjolras said, breath hitching when Grantaire kissed his neck. “Never call me pumpkin ever again.”

“Promise,” Grantaire mumbled against Enjolras’ skin. “Princess.”

“You are terrible.”

“Excuse you, do I need to remind you of that one time when you called me marshmallow? I’m not a marshmallow.”

“And I’m not a princess.” Enjolras turned around. “Or a pumpkin.”

“Okay, dimples.”

“Great,” Enjolras wrinkled his nose, “peanut.”

“You’re a dork.”

“You’re a…” Enjolras poked at Grantaire’s chest, “fruit loop.”

Grantaire snorted. “You know what, I’m starting to get really hungry now.”

“Hm, there are some leftover spring rolls in the fridge.”

“Ohh…”

“I just love it when you get distracted by food while we’re making out.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Grantaire said and started pulling Enjolras towards the kitchen, “you’re still my favorite spring roll.”

“You’re gonna ruin spring rolls for me,” Enjolras said.

“I’d never.”

“Couldn’t you at least use food that I hate?”

“Like what?” Grantaire asked, thinking for a moment. “Oh, I know, cauliflower.” He laughed. “That actually sounds kinda cute, though.”

Enjolras punched him in the arm. “Stop.”

“You never like any of the nicknames I make up for you.”

“You never like any of mine either.”

“Because they’re all ridiculous.”

“And _cauliflower_ isn’t?”

“Never said that it wasn’t,” Grantaire said lightly. He pulled Enjolras closer and stole a kiss, the spring rolls all but forgotten.  

* * *

“How are you awake already?” Enjolras grumbled as he came shuffling into the kitchen. _Their_ kitchen.

Grantaire smirked at his bagel. “Not everyone can sleep until noon.”

Enjolras kept grumbling as he poured himself some cereal. “Do you want more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Grantaire said. “I can make eggs if you want.” Enjolras could also make eggs if he wanted any, but they both knew that Grantaire was the true master of breakfast foods in this kitchen.

“No, this is fine,” Enjolras said and held up his cereal bowl. He poured Grantaire some more coffee and got himself the biggest mug they owned, an incredibly thoughtful gift from Combeferre.

“Thanks, love,” Grantaire mumbled.

Enjolras froze.

See, they’d given up on this thing a long time ago after Enjolras had called him munchkin and Grantaire had laughed for at least half an hour. Enjolras had then sulked for yet another half hour. And that had been the end of it.

Grantaire blinked at him. “Sorry.”

“Well…” Enjolras shrugged. “I guess I can live with that one.”

Grantaire smirked. _Small victories_.


End file.
